


Who needs a soulmate anyway?

by faeryn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Christophe's Grabby Hands, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, protective!otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeryn/pseuds/faeryn
Summary: Yuri hates his soulmark, and he doesn't care if he never finds his soulmate. What he does care about is his friendship with Otabek, and the best way to make sure he doesn't lose his new best friend is by keeping his soulmark covered at all times.It's just a shame not all the skaters respect that.





	Who needs a soulmate anyway?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lumeleo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeleo/gifts).



> This is my first ever Challenge fic, and honestly I wasn't sure I would get it finished in time! The story kinda got away from me a little hahaha... 
> 
> Anyway, this is for the lovely Lumelle, who writes some amazing fic in a bunch of different fandoms! I hope you enjoy it ^_^ 
> 
> Special thanks as always to my amazing beta, whose name I will add after the author reveal~ :) As well as my fantastical second beta, whose help was absolutely invaluable <3

“Are you going to become my friend or not?” The older boy challenged, and Yuri absently scratched the skin coloured patch on his wrist that hid his soulmark, weighing up the decision in his head. After a moment, he took Otabek’s offered hand and shook it firmly. It was going to be a risk, he knew, since soulmarks didn’t begin to appear until around age twelve, so Otabek wouldn’t have seen his yet but… Yuri felt reckless for a moment and decided the risk was worth taking.

They spent the majority of the rest of the afternoon enjoying the sights of Barcelona before settling in at a café, though both of them only gazed reluctantly at the display cabinet of sweet treats before ordering hot, unsweetened tea. Yuri was amazed at how Otabek seemed to listen intently to everything he had to say, unused to companions that didn’t constantly interrupt him with their own stream of consciousness. By the time they were dragged to dinner with some of the other skaters they had thoroughly bonded as friends, and Yuri knew that now more than ever it was imperative that he keep his soulmark hidden.

 

Simply put, he couldn’t bear it if another friend turned away from him because of the bland, basic mark he had borne on his wrist for the last three years. Since Yakov had officially taken over as his coach two years ago he’d fortunately been able to minimise the amount of time he spent near the youngsters who had mocked him when the mark first began to clear, but the memories were still fresh and painful. Yuri was not, by nature, a social person, and when his unlikely friendship with Pasha had bloomed in their tenth year he had been happy for a little while. But it shouldn’t have surprised him that the younger boy would turn away from him when his soulmark appeared. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, especially when the marks ended up being different to what was expected. The cruelty with which his former friend had turned on him, though, now that was a surprise. He had always thought of Pasha as kind, but apparently the appearance of his own soulmark —a vivid yellow word simply stating “ice”, an indicator that he would indeed be matched with someone close to skating— had twisted him somehow into the unrecognisable boy who had only mean words for poor Yuri.

Yuri’s mark was an odd pale blue, which didn’t particularly mean his soulmate would be male —just as many people with bright pink soulmarks ended up with male soulmates— but nevertheless Pasha had apparently taken its appearance very badly. It was just so… bland. Unremarkable. He seemed to find it hard to believe that someone like Yuri would have such a boring soulmate. A gardener, maybe, or a botanist if he was very fortunate. To their young minds, such a mark was hard to figure out.

It grew, from a tiny faded image until it was dark and covered almost the whole of his lower arm to his elbow, and Yuri hoped with each passing year that it would become more understandable, but the meaning continued to elude him. It was passably pretty, he supposed, or it was getting there at least, but it just made no _sense_. He was a figure skater. One of the best, in his humble opinion, so what the hell was he doing with a soulmark that had absolutely nothing to do with skating?

Being in the public eye, skaters were expected to cover their marks just like actors and musicians were, since very early on in the television age it was discovered that some people would take even the vaguest interpretation of soulmarks if it meant they could potentially be matched with their favourite celebrity. Yuri was glad of it, since it gave him an excuse to keep his mark covered at all times. Citing his rather over-enthusiastic fans, he applied the small sticky patch each morning regardless of where he was intending to be, only removing it once he was alone in his room. Yakov and Lilia had seen it, of course, but they didn’t care. Their own soulmarks had long-since faded with their romance, and they no longer put much stock in such things. Yuri didn’t either, since he had no interest in meeting some gardener or botanist, and the likelihood of that happening while he was a professional skater was very slim anyway, so he felt absolutely no need to uncover it or tell anyone about it. He’d seen one or two people’s marks in the changing rooms at competitions —knew that Viktor’s was a dark blue tie that made _so_ much more sense now—but while many of them seemed skating-related, not a one of them was as abstract and downright dull as his own. Most of the other skaters wore their patches throughout competition anyway —at least until they met their soulmates.

Supposedly, at least according to Viktor and Katsudon, meeting one’s soulmate was meant to be an intense experience. At least, meeting them when you weren’t so drunk off your face you wouldn’t actually remember them, _Katsuki_. But both had described this unerring sense of _coming home_ , like you were finally where you were meant to be, and that was by your soulmate’s side. That all sounded completely stupid to Yuri, since he had absolutely zero plans for losing any of the carefully cultivated independence he had managed to scratch together in St Petersburg. Moving to a whole different country just to be with another person? No thanks. He expected they were probably exaggerating the whole deal quite a lot, though, especially since both of them had their marks uncovered at the time they finally met for real in Yu-topia. That probably had something to do with it. So since Yuri was never planning on having his mark uncovered around other people, he could probably rest assured that the supposedly electrifying feeling of meeting his soulmate was never going to happen. Thank fuck for that.

 

Fortunately for Yuri, Otabek seemed about as interested in seeing his soulmark as Yuri was in showing it to him. After the Grand Prix Yuri and Otabek began to Skype regularly, a few times a week maybe, when practice allowed, and at first every time they talked Yuri expected the subject to come up. He knew Otabek had seen his patch —they were skin coloured but only _barely_ so it was obvious he was hiding the mark— but somehow even when the conversation turned in that direction Otabek never once asked him about it. Nor, in fact, did he volunteer any information about his own. Not that Yuri was especially curious about it aside from perhaps the location, since he had never seen a patch on any of the visible parts of Otabek’s skin, so it suited him not to talk about it at all.

“You still with me, Yuri?” Otabek’s voice drew Yuri back out of his absent thoughts, returning him to the present and the reminder that Otabek was on his laptop screen.

“Yeah,” he answered, too quickly, “just drifted for a second, what were you saying?”

“Oh, nothing important,” Otabek grinned, and it infected Yuri immediately, making him grin back with equal enthusiasm, “just asking how you were doing with school and how that history test went last week.”

“Ahh, fine, fine,” Yuri waved a hand dismissively, “you know I don’t really care that much about school. I’m going to skate until I can’t skate anymore and then become a coach or commentator until I can’t do _that_ anymore, then I’ll probably die, I guess.”

Otabek’s tinny laughter echoed through Yuri’s weak laptop speakers, and he couldn’t help but grin at his friend.

“Morbid much, Yuri?” Otabek finally managed to say once he’d calmed down a little.

“Just realistic, you _know_ I don’t like being idle, I probably won’t retire until they make me and then kicking around the house with shit all to do will kill me quickly,” he chuckled.

“Good to know you have a plan though.”

“Of course I do. How about you?” Yuri realised he actually was curious about what Otabek planned to do once he couldn’t skate any longer; he was going to start university soon and that meant thinking about the future in a more concrete sense, not the nebulous, vague way Yuri was thinking about it.

“I’m not really sure,” Otabek confessed quietly, turning his head away from the screen for a moment and glancing around his room with a small frown barely visible on the grainy video feed. “I thought maybe I would do something with photography, maybe taking the pictures for travel destinations or wildlife? It would be something interesting and always different, and I do like to travel.”   
He fell silent for a moment, but somehow Yuri could tell he wasn’t quite done speaking. The silence had an air of thoughtfulness, and it settled over them comfortably like a favourite blanket. Yuri had just started to drift into a daydream when he heard Otabek breathe in, clearly ready to begin speaking again, so he blinked a few times and forced himself to focus and listen.

“I suppose it depends on whether or not I meet my soulmate,” this was new, they almost never talked about their _own_ soulmates, only really other people’s. “If they aren’t the kind to enjoy travel then I’m not sure I would want to be apart from them for long periods of time, so that would definitely make a difference to what I end up actually doing. But… perhaps I’ll study photography anyway, since the worst thing that happens is I end up doing portraits or local events, right?” He laughed and shook his head at himself. “I guess I don’t really know at all what I want to do, do I?”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a soulmate if they stop you doing what you love,” Yuri scoffed, his disdain for the whole concept seeping through for a moment before he schooled his expression. “Ah, I mean that I’m sure whoever your soulmate is will love and support you whatever you choose to do,” he amended half-heartedly.

Regardless, Otabek gave him a knowing look, seeming to understand the words he left unspoken. He was like that, sometimes, intuitive in a way Yuri’s Russian friends weren’t, and always willing to let a subject go when he sensed he was touching a nerve. Unlike fucking Vitya, who seemed to delight in worrying at every nerve he found until Yuri snapped, then acting all hurt as if he didn’t realise what he was doing. Which, Yuri had to concede, he probably didn’t. Oblivious as the man was, and annoyingly self-centred, for all that he could be incredibly perceptive at times he was ridiculously dense about some things. Yuri had had many a frustrated conversation with Katsudon on the subject, and it seemed that Viktor was finally starting to understand when to back the fuck off.

“Anyway, I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it I guess,” Otabek once more drew Yuri back into the present, and he chastised himself for letting his thoughts wander to Viktor right now. “I was thinking…”

Yuri leaned forward as Otabek drifted off, again looking away to let his eyes roam around his room and resolutely not looking back at the screen and Yuri. And again Yuri waited, his teenage patience stretched thin, for his quiet friend to finish his sentence. These pauses happened quite frequently, since Otabek was always very careful with his words and seemed to like considering each one before he said it. Finally, Yuri’s patience broke.

“What? What were you thinking?”

“Well, I thought it might be fun to come and visit, in the summer when we have more time. If you like, if you’re not busy.” He sounded unsure, as if he’d been mulling the idea over in his head for a while but had finally decided to voice it.

“Yes!” Yuri bounced excitedly on his knees, his camera shaking and laptop almost sliding off the bed before he lunged forward and grabbed it. Potya, who had been sleeping peacefully on his pillow, jumped to her feet with a disgruntled miaow and fixed Yuri with the feline Level-99-Stare-Of-I-Will-Shit-In-Your-Shoes before resettling on the cat bed on Yuri’s desk.

“Oops, ahaha, sorry Potya. But yes, please come visit, Otabek, I’ll be _dying_ for non-shitty company in summer!” Now the idea had been presented he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more, and even though summer was still a good two months away he couldn’t wait to see his best friend step off that plane. And, truthfully, he wanted any opportunity he could get to spend more time with Otabek. A tiny curl of jealousy wound itself around his heart at the thought that in the next year or two Otabek would probably find his soulmate and have little time for Yuri anymore, and he tried not to examine why too closely.

A small grin spread slowly across Otabek’s face, all trace of hesitation gone now that he had a positive response from Yuri. Yuri matched him, his grin widening until the two of them realised they were just sitting there beaming at each other like lunatics, and Otabek looked away with a quiet cough while Yuri busied himself apologising to Potya.

 

Yuri had expected the next two months to fly by; that he would soon find himself standing at the gate waiting for Otabek eagerly. That was not, in fact, the case. Instead, every single day seemed to last a month, every week a whole _year_ , and Yakov seemed determined to break him somehow since he had managed to convince the man to give him a week off from training. Apparently this meant he needed to get all the work he would do then and more done in the weeks before his break.

It wasn’t like he was going to be completely idle, he complained loudly at Yakov one day while he did his warm-ups. He and Otabek were professional athletes. They were still going to be exercising every day, just not on the ice. That meant nothing to Yakov though, it seemed, and by the time Yuri was getting ready for bed the night before Otabek’s flight was due to arrive, he was _sore_. Still, the hard work would be worth it for two weeks with his best friend, even if they were going to have to spend one of those weeks doing Yuri’s usual training schedule. Yakov and Lilia had been quite firm about the fact that he would only be permitted a single week for recreation— it may be the off season, they’d each said in their own words, but that didn’t mean he could slack off. As if Yuri _ever_ slacked off. He had Viktor to beat, after all. But nevertheless he knuckled down and worked as hard as he could so neither of them would have any excuse to spoil his all-too-brief holiday.

Naturally, all this meant that once Otabek finally, _finally_ arrived, time seemed to decide that was the perfect moment to do the speeding up that Yuri had expected two months ago. The first week they got up each morning and went for a run, Yuri’s competitive edge driving them harder than he would normally run, and leaving them laughing and sweaty when they finally made it back to the door of his tiny apartment. Yuri spent some time showing Otabek around St Petersburg, doing all the tourist things that he normally would have no interest in. To his surprise he found that he actually enjoyed most of them, though part of that was getting to share the experiences with Otabek.

The Soulmark Exhibition at the art museum was a bust, though. They’d put on this display of confirmed or suspected soulmarks for famous figures throughout history, but as soon as they reached the section for athletes Yuri couldn’t stop thinking about how when he beat all of Viktor’s records and became the best figure skater in history, they would expect his soulmark to be put up in exhibitions just like this too. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be ready for that, especially since he didn’t anticipate ever finding his soulmate. Yuri trawled around the exhibit with a grim expression, feeling that the whole thing was incredibly intrusive. But he had to concede that his personal opinion of soulmarks being a personal, private thing was quite uncommon, and that most people wore theirs proudly, always hoping that the right person would come along. Even people in the public eye weren’t that careful, young athletes in particular often only wore their patches while actually competing, and pictures of their soulmarks from social events circulated widely in the tabloids. Once someone’s soulmate was found it was even less common for them to keep them covered, the biggest exception being actors who needed a different mark for a role. And even then often their personal mark was written into the story when possible, to save make-up artists time and energy on full coverage and intricate new marks.

Despite that one mood-souring trip the first week of Otabek’s visit flew by in a whirlwind of fun and new, happy memories, and before they knew it they were leaving for their morning jog, but heading to the rink with their skate bags rather than make a circular trip back to Yuri’s apartment. Otabek’s coach had organised with Yakov for him to keep an eye on him, which was why he was able to stay a second week at all. Even the off-season wasn’t completely responsibility-free for the skaters, and the rink was almost as busy as it ever was.

Perhaps with the notable exception of Viktor and Katsuki, who had returned to Hasetsu for the summer despite Yakov’s angry blustering. Yuri was relieved, really, that they weren’t around —while he’d grown, not _fond_ exactly, but… _tolerant_ of Katsudon, and would have been happy for him to see Otabek again, Viktor had become even more problematic than he used to be since meeting his soulmate. Team Russia often found their training interrupted by him, and it had increasingly begun to irritate Yuri. Not long before they left he’d spent several hours rolling his eyes and bitching at Viktor’s constant prattling about how amazing Katsudon was and how Yuri should watch him and _oh look at how beautifully he skates_ , and so on, and so forth. Yakov had spent half of the time screaming at Viktor to worry about his own skating and to stop bothering Yuri and the others, which naturally meant he wasn’t watching or instructing his skaters. Relying on each other for critique was only a good temporary measure, no substitute for the real coaching _that they were paying for_ , and Yuri spent a great deal of time gritting his teeth at the frustration of having almost a whole day’s work lost because Viktor was being a drama queen. So his absence was, in a way, very welcomed.

Yakov took his duties as temporary coach for Otabek very seriously, and each day they spent at the rink he shared his attention with Otabek as much as with any of his own. Nobody could claim he slacked off just because the other skater wasn’t, technically, his student. To Yakov’s apparent surprise and delight, Yuri worked even harder than usual while Otabek was visiting, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of his friend. He began his stretches as soon as his skates were on, guiding Otabek through his warm-up routine and letting Otabek add some of his own to the mix. When it came time to get on the ice, Yuri listened intently to every instruction and worked hard to follow them instead of hurling expletives back. He didn’t even complain when Yakov needed to spend time with Mila or Georgi, simply continuing with what they’d begun and being sure not to do anything Yakov had explicitly forbidden him to do. Yakov remarked at the end of the week that he’d have to consider taking Otabek on full time if that was the only way he could get Yuri to behave himself, and as much as the idea thrilled Yuri for a moment, he couldn’t help but pull a face at the old man at the insinuation that he needed someone to keep him in line.  
Ballet lessons were less fun, since Otabek still resolutely refused to even try it again, point blank. To Lilia’s face. She surprised Yuri by laughing, a rare and beautiful sound, and allowing Otabek a space in her studio to do yoga instead as long as he didn’t distract Yuri. Not being able to share his task with his friend wasn’t as enjoyable as being together on the ice, but it was still way better than his usual solitary lessons, so Yuri decided he would take it. Yuri smiled warmly at the reflection of Otabek stretching out on his yoga mat behind him while he stood at the barre, taking care not to let his attention wander from Lilia’s instructions. By the end of the week she even told Otabek that he would be welcome in her studio again, and that it was refreshing to have such a polite and well-mannered young man around. Yuri stuck his tongue out at her. He had the rudest coaches, _honestly_.

Otabek’s departure day came around faster than Yuri would have liked. They said their farewells with suitably masculine half-hugs, though it took all of Yuri’s self control not to wrap his arms around Otabek’s neck and hold him tight, and promises to spend time together at the next event they both attended. He wondered for a while if it really mattered if he never found his soulmate. If he was able to keep Otabek’s friendship, whether it was never anything more than that, then he thought perhaps he would be able to be happy anyway. Some people never managed to find their soulmates—it wasn’t a guaranteed thing—and they managed to live fulfilling lives anyway. And not all soulmate relationships were perfect and lasted forever either, he just had to look at Yakov and Lilia to know _that_ . So maybe, just maybe… he would be okay. He’d even heard of people getting tattoos over their soulmarks, and wondered if maybe that would be an option for him in a few years. _Maybe Otabek would too_ , his brain supplied, but he shoved it deep down inside with all the rest of his rapidly-strengthening crush. Otabek’s plane flew away while Yuri sat in Mila’s car and mulled the thought over in his mind.

The two of them returned to their normal routine of the occasional Skype call when they weren’t too tired after practice, and when the time difference wasn’t too much for Otabek. Yuri was quite content with this arrangement. As much fun as it had been having Otabek around for two weeks he wasn’t sure that he could have managed a longer visit. For some reason he felt like he needed to prove something to Otabek, as if there was somehow something wrong with his personality that he needed to hide, and it was exhausting. That didn’t mean he wasn’t looking forward to the next time they met, though, and when the Grand Prix assignments were released and Otabek was assigned to the Rostelecom Cup Yuri’s delighted whoop echoed throughout the rink. Once more he shuttered the way his heart soared at the thought of getting to be close to Otabek again behind heavy doors in his chest, unwilling to address them right now. It was starting to get on his nerves because he knew rationally that the chances of neither of them finding their soulmate were practically zero Harbouring hope for a relationship that would never last was not only not helpful, it was downright stupid.

 

“What time does your flight get in?” Yuri asked the day before Otabek and his coach were due to arrive for Rostelecom. His whole body quivered with the anticipation, and Potya had already relocated herself to her desk-bed because Yuri’s knee simply wouldn’t stop bouncing and making the bed shake.

“One-thirty,” Otabek answered, his voice echoing in his room. He was Skyping Yuri while he packed, since Yuri had been given an afternoon off so that Yakov and Lilia could finalise the arrangements for the rest of the Grand Prix. Everyone was already assuming he would make it to the final, and he expected to, so there were flights to book and hotels to arrange, and between him and the rest of Team-Russia-featuring-Katsuki-Yuri there were a lot of arrangements to make, so the skaters had been given an entire afternoon to relax.

“Okay, I’ll meet you at the hotel then?” Yuri leaned forward, peering into the dimness of Otabek’s bedroom as he leaned over to grab something that had slipped down between his bed and his wall. He was wearing a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt that had seen better days, claiming that he wanted to wear something comfy while doing the arduous chore that was packing. On the back of his left thigh, disappearing up into the leg of his shorts, was a tattoo that brought a grin to Yuri’s face.

“Love the leopard print tattoo there, Beka,” he chuckled, and Otabek’s head whipped around to the screen in surprise.

“Oh, yeah, that,” he answered blankly, then returned to what he was doing without any further elaboration, or even a thank you for the compliment. Yuri winced, figuring maybe the tattoo had been a bad decision Otabek regretted, or perhaps had some sort of negative memory associated with it. Much like Yuri’s soulmark had for him. So he dropped the subject like it was a hot coal and smoothly switched to asking Otabek about his plans for the week between Rostelecom and the Final. Otabek and Yuri had both gotten gold in their previous competitions so basically they just needed not to bomb Rostelecom and they’d be guaranteed a place. Yuri may or may not have sent a series of gloating texts to JJ when Otabek beat him to the gold by five full points.

They spent the next few hours chatting about their exhibition skates, Yuri having once again chosen a song that Otabek introduced him to —much to Lilia’s obvious distaste. To her credit she still helped him with the choreography, and he put up with her tutting without complaint. Once Otabek was finally packed he could focus his full attention on the Skype call and actually listen properly to the things Yuri was saying, and for about the hundredth time since Barcelona Yuri was struck by the intensity of Otabek’s attention and the way he always seemed to listen to everything Yuri had to say, as if it was the most important thing happening in the world. It made his heart skip a beat, and drew to the surface feelings he had been trying to bury since Otabek left in the summer.

It wasn’t that he didn’t respect the whole soulmate… _thing_ , he thought later as he lay on his bed stroking Potya’s silky fur. He just didn’t put much faith in it, really. If it could match him with some plant person instead of a skater, then how many other people were being mismatched? A small, secret part of Yuri’s heart kind of hoped something similar had happened to Otabek, and that he would maybe be interested in Yuri instead. But he was trying hard not to let that part of himself have too much hope. People wilfully choosing someone who wasn’t their soulmate wasn’t unheard of, but it was definitely rare. While Otabek hadn’t really given Yuri any indication that he was definitively for or against soulmates, he seemed like the type who would quietly wait his whole life for it.

Yuri shook his head to clear it, something that happened quite a lot when he was talking to or thinking about Otabek. It was extremely annoying how often he ended up thinking about soulmate shit when Otabek was on his mind, but he put it down to his tiny, tiny, _infinitesimal_ crush and the fact that he still had no idea where Otabek’s soulmark was or what it looked like. He didn’t care that much, he just wasn’t used to other people being as secretive as he was. It would probably come up sooner or later, he figured.

“Even if I never see it,” he mused at the loudly purring Potya, “I don’t care as long as he doesn’t stop being my friend when he _does_ find his soulmate.” The words rang hollow in his ears, and he knew it was a lie. Curiosity burned within him, but he couldn’t ask Otabek to respect his boundaries around his soulmark and then demand to see his. Even Yuri knew how hypocritical that would be.

The following afternoon Yuri hung around the lobby of the hotel where the international skaters were staying for the duration of the competition, trying to keep a low profile in case any Angels were creeping around waiting for a glimpse of him. He loved his fans, he _did_ , but they could be a bit much sometimes, and he didn’t want to miss Otabek’s arrival because he was too busy taking photos. Lilia had lectured him at length more than once about being nice to his fans, and that she would be very cross with him if he misbehaved. He rolled his eyes at the memory and leaned a little further back into the dark alcove he was hiding in. It was always worse in Russian competitions though, since so much of his fanbase was local, so he made sure to stay out of sight, and had even ‘borrowed’ one of Katsuki’s hooded coats so he would look even less like himself. The disguise wouldn’t hold up under any kind of intense scrutiny, but it was enough to have most people’s attention sliding away from him when he wasn’t immediately recognised.

“Beka!” His joyful shout gave him away in an instant when Otabek and his coach stepped into the lobby, dusting off the afternoon’s light snowfall from their heavy coats. Otabek grinned at him as he rushed over, and his coach chuckled, excusing himself to go and check them in. Yuri had offered to put Otabek up in his apartment, but he’d said he preferred to be close to Serik, and Yuri didn’t have space for the both of them. He had stamped down the disappointment and just barely managed to resist booking himself a room at the hotel too. He lived close by so paying for a hotel room out of his own pocket would just be wasteful. And ridiculous, considering he would only be doing it to be closer to Otabek.   
The two of them had plans to go out for dinner once Otabek and Serik were all checked in and settled, and Yuri spent most of the afternoon sitting on the small table in Otabek’s room watching him unpack (he was one of those strange people that unpacked all his clothes as soon as he arrived in a hotel), then on the table in Serik’s room next door while the coach gave Otabek a few obvious instructions. No alcohol, no sweets, don’t stay out too late, no fatty food, and so on, and so forth, as if Otabek hadn’t been doing this for years and didn’t know how to keep himself in shape before a competition. As if Otabek was _Katsudon_. Yuri laughed quietly to himself from his perch, wondering if Viktor bothered to give Katsuki this lecture since he clearly needed it more.

Finally, _finally_ , they were allowed to leave, but they didn’t get very far.

Viktor—who had been insufferable since being told that Katsuki hadn’t been assigned to Rostelecom—, Christophe, Guang Hong, and Georgi were loitering in the lobby, and somehow Yuri knew, he just _knew_ they were waiting for him and Otabek. They always did this: decided on what everyone was going to do together as a group without even bothering to ask if everyone actually _wanted_ to do it. That was how the two of them had been dragged out for dinner and away from their cozy little café in Barcelona, too. He supposed he should just be grateful JJ wasn’t here, it was bad enough he was probably going to see him at the final. Still, at least he’d have a chance to beat him again, that would be nice.

“Yurotchka!” Viktor called as they stepped out of the lift, waving frantically as if there was any hope in hell that Yuri could just pretend he hadn’t seen the man.

“What?” He growled, narrowing his eyes and trying to psychically tell Viktor to fuck all the way off.

“We’re going out! Come on!”

“We’re not, Viktor, we already have plans. Come on, Otabek,” Yuri grabbed Otabek by the arm and tried to steer him away but Georgi intercepted them and Chris’s hand closed over his free wrist, effectively halting him.

“Yuuuuuuriiiii,” Viktor whined, his face screwing up in that annoying way it always did when he wasn’t getting his own way, “don’t you want to spend time with us? We’re your friends!”

“You’re a pain in my fucking ass, is what you are,” Yuri spat back.

“Yuri, you’re even wearing your patch right now?” Chris asked suddenly, lifting Yuri’s arm up and tugging back his sleeve so he could get a better look. “I know your fans are pretty enthusiastic, but you don’t have to wear these all the time you know,” he laughed, beginning to work a nail under the corner of the patch.

In his head, Yuri was screaming and fighting, and throwing punches anywhere he could to get Chris to let him go. In reality, though, he’d almost short-circuited, his face going blank as the blood rushed through his head loudly. His heart hammered in his chest, and no matter how much he tried he couldn’t seem to make his mouth or body work at all. His hand had fallen away from Otabek’s elbow, dropping to his side limply while he stared at Chris in abject horror. The very concept of someone else forcibly removing the patch was simply too much for him, the overwhelming rush of emotion and fear making his body tremble and his breath come in swift, shallow pants.

“What the fuck, Chris!” Otabek shouted, leaping forward and pushing Chris so hard he tripped and fell on his ass. Positioning himself between Chris and Yuri, Otabek glowered at him while Yuri blinked, trying to mentally grab all of the strands of himself that felt like they were spiralling away from him somehow. He needed to slow his breathing, calm himself down. Objectively Yuri knew this, but he just couldn’t for some reason. Tears began to slip down his face as the terror rooted itself deep into his chest, and Viktor took a stunned step back. Guang Hong did the opposite, stepping forward hesitantly as if he intended to comfort Yuri, but letting his reaching hand drop silently to his side when Yuri flinched so hard he lost his balance and had to grab Otabek’s shoulder to keep from falling.

“What? Those are just for the public,” Chris climbed to his feet and frowned at Otabek, annoyed, “it’s not a big deal.”

“It might not be a big deal to _you_ ,” Otabek spat, “but that still doesn’t give you the right to manhandle just anyone you like. You’re always fucking _like_ this Christophe, why can’t you just keep your hands to yourself for _once_.” Otabek was shaking with rage, his fists clenched as if he was going to throw a punch. He wasn’t that type of person, Yuri knew, but the implication that Otabek would even threaten violence in his defence made Yuri shiver in a different way. He stepped up behind Otabek and pressed his forehead to Otabek’s shoulder, the warmth of his body helping to ground him a little even as his uncontrollable tears soaked into Otabek’s coat.

“Can we just go, Beka?” Yuri asked thickly, and Otabek immediately relaxed, turning to face Yuri.

“Of course,” he took Yuri’s wrist in his hand gently and smoothed the partly-peeled patch back into place. He shot Chris one last death-glare that would even rival Potya when Yuri was late feeding her, then they were out of the lobby and into the freezing night air.

As the sense of relief hit him Yuri’s stomach flipped and he scrambled forward, leaning against the wall to empty the contents of his stomach into a snowbank. Otabek tugged his hair out of the way and rubbed his back gently, letting Yuri vomit without judgement.

“Sorry,” Yuri muttered, rubbing his mouth and still-damp cheeks with his sleeve.

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry for,” Otabek growled, apparently still feeling some residual anger about what had just happened. He held out his hand and Yuri took it without hesitation, letting Otabek lead them away from the hotel. He wasn’t sure where they were going, whether they were going to make their dinner reservation, or whether he would ever feel up to eating again in his life, but Otabek’s hand was warm in his and he found himself caring less and less as the cool air soothed his raw nerves and the silence the blanket of snow brought to the city seeped into his veins.

 

Finally, Otabek pushed open the door to a coffee shop Yuri vaguely recognised and tucked Yuri away at a table way in the back. The lighting was dim enough to give the cafe a pleasant atmosphere, and Otabek soon returned with two cups of hot tea lightly sweetened with honey. Yuri’s favourite. He couldn’t help but smile as he wrapped his chilled hands around the cup and breathed in the fragrant steam. Otabek couldn’t possibly know, but whenever Yuri had been upset or unwell as a child, his grandpa had always brought him hot tea sweetened with honey, sometimes with a little lemon too. Now he always associated it with love and warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, finally, once he felt confident his voice wouldn’t shake.

“The only person who should be sorry is Chris,” Otabek answered quietly, refusing to take his eyes off his tea, “but I am too. I hate that he thought that was an okay thing to do to anyone, but especially because—” He bit off the end of the sentence, his eyes flicking up to Yuri’s face then back to his drink.

“Because I’m stupidly sensitive about my soulmark.” Yuri correctly finished for him, and Otabek nodded sheepishly.

They sat there in silence for a little while, Otabek seemingly embarrassed at drawing attention to Yuri’s sensitivity, and Yuri mulling things over in his mind. He was going to skate like shit tomorrow, for a start. The residual anxiety was zinging through his body like an electrical current, and every now and then his entire body gave a little shiver. When he forced himself to think about Christophe picking at the patch his vision darkened a little at the edges and he began to feel dizzy.

“When I was twelve,” he began suddenly, “my soulmark finally showed up.” Otabek nodded with a forced air of disinterest, that was about the normal time for soulmarks to appear. “Up ‘till then I had this friend, Pasha, and we were pretty close. Actually, we were kinda inseparable. He’s a skater too, so we trained together and spent almost all our free time together too.” Yuri took a sip of his tea, letting the warm liquid give him courage for the rest of the story.

“You don’t have to explain, Yura,” Otabek said gently.

“I want to,” he replied, grimly, suddenly desperate to tell someone the whole story for the first time. “Anyway, we were friends for a couple of years, and then my soulmark showed up. I don’t know what it was, why it happened, but almost overnight Pasha turned on me. He said he couldn’t believe I had such a stupid soulmark, that it didn’t suit me at all. That my soulmate was going to be a bad match, and would be so boring and I’d probably have to give up skating. The other juniors laughed at me too, egging him on and throwing in their own little insults too. It was… a horrible experience. Not long after that Yakov officially took over as my full-time coach, and I didn’t have the same training schedule as the others so I didn’t have to see them much anymore. And the rest of the time I just tried to avoid them as much as possible.”

Otabek nodded along, listening with his usual intensity, though his jaw tightened visibly when Yuri explained how his former best friend turned on him all because of a stupid soulmark.

“After that I started covering it. I didn’t want to risk anyone else seeing it and saying more awful things. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go on, the feelings were…” he sighed heavily, “really hard to deal with. And when I met you, I decided it was even more important that nobody ever saw my soulmark. I already know I’m never going to find my soulmate, and I don’t care anymore, but you’re so fucking _nice_ and I can’t, I just _can’t_ lose another friend.” Yuri took in a shaky breath, blinking hard against the anxious tears that threatened to spill over again. He thought of himself as a fairly strong person, but somehow this subject always managed to break him every single time.

“Yuri, your soulmark could be a giant neon dick and I wouldn’t mock you,” Otabek said seriously, “I don’t care about that. I like you because you’re fun, and strong, and I enjoy your company. I love how passionate you are about the things that are important to you, you remind me to show my own passion for things. And honestly, if you never take your patch off again that doesn’t matter to me either. I am so… _angry_ that people treated you that way, over something you have zero control over and that is so personally specific to everyone. And Yuri, I’m fucking _proud_ that you didn’t let that experience twist you into someone bitter and cruel. You’re amazing, and I hope that you will let me continue to be your friend for the rest of our lives.”

Yuri was stunned; Otabek never usually said so many words all at once, especially not with such conviction, and he needed a moment to fully appreciate them. It was reassuring to hear that Otabek felt the same about their friendship, though, since he had become so important to Yuri that he desperately didn’t want to lose it. As the words sunk deep into his bones, Yuri made an irresponsible, snap decision, and tore the patch from his wrist. He thrust it out under Otabek’s nose and looked away so he wouldn’t have to see the scornful look that would surely cross his expression before he returned it to its usual carefully neutral look.

“Oh.” This was it, Yuri had fucked up, Otabek was going to—

“It’s the _Baiterek_.” Yuri’s head whipped around as Otabek’s gentle fingers took his wrist, turning it this way and that to get a better look at it.

“The _what_?” He managed to stutter out. Otabek looked up, blinking, a tiny smile ghosting across his lips.

“The _Baiterek_. The World Tree, or mother poplar. It’s from Kazakh mythology, hold on,” he let go of Yuri’s wrist with one hand, digging in his pocket for his phone and doing a quick one-handed Google search. Once he’d found [ a website ](http://magicalgains.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-world-tree-kazakh-mythology.html) he was satisfied with he thrust the phone under Yuri’s nose for him to read it.

“Oh.” Yuri echoed Otabek’s simple exclamation from before.

“It’s the colour of the Kazakh flag too,” Otabek added thoughtfully while Yuri read, his eyes and free hand drifting back to the soulmark in front of him. Yuri glanced over and realised that, yes, it did look a lot like the little flag on Otabek’s jacket.

Once Yuri finally finished reading the webpage, even clicking through the links and devouring the additional information, he glanced back up to see Otabek was frowning as he gently stroked his thumb back and forth across the soulmark. Yuri’s breath hitched at the careful, reverent touch and his heart was pounding in his chest like the headache he’d had after the one time Mila had let him drink vodka with her. He felt his face warm as a deep blush spread across his cheeks, nobody had ever touched him with this kind of care before. 

“Yura… Do leopard spots mean anything to you at all?”

Yuri had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud, thinking of the all the leopard print clothes he had, and the huge fluffy blanket that had been tucked in the back of his wardrobe when Otabek visited because it was too warm for summer.

“Leopards are a cat,” he managed once he’d gotten himself under control.

“Well I know _that_ ,” Otabek huffed, unamused.

“Beka, like half my shit is leopard print. My fucking _suitcase_ is leopard print. Like it doesn’t have any kind of deeper meaning to me, I just think it’s cool. Why?”

Otabek was staring at him now with a really weird expression on his face, and once again that anxiety that Otabek was about to tell him they couldn’t be friends anymore rose in his chest. He remembered suddenly the reaction Otabek had when Yuri pointed out his tattoo, and he wondered if his preference for all things leopard-print was going to be a big problem. It made his chest hurt a little, but he realised that if he had to he would burn every single piece of leopard print he owned if it meant he could still be Otabek’s friend.

“You’ve already seen my soulmark.” The quiet words made him match Otabek’s frown, and he tilted his head to the side as he tried to think about when he could possibly have seen Otabek’s soulmark.

“What? When?”

“That big leopard print on the back of my leg? That you thought was a tattoo? That’s my soulmark. I usually keep it covered because I knew you had a _thing_ about soulmarks, but I forgot yesterday when I was packing.”

The ground dropped out from underneath Yuri suddenly, then the world rushed back with shocking clarity. He leapt from his chair, knocking it to the floor, and grabbed Otabek’s wrist, tugging him out of the cafe and abandoning their half-finished drinks. He knew where they were, and that his apartment was only a five-minute walk from here, and he wanted, no, he _needed_ to see that mark again. Suddenly it seemed like the most important thing in the entire world. Otabek, to his credit, was neither protesting nor fighting him, in fact he was matching Yuri step for step and even bounced impatiently on his toes while Yuri fumbled with his door keys. Once they were finally inside the apartment, startling Potya with the slamming of the door, Otabek fumbled with his belt and whirled around, tugging his jeans down to his knees so Yuri could see the mark. Yuri crouched down, pulling up the bottom of Otabek’s boxers so he could get a better look. Otabek craned his neck around, peering down at Yuri with a complex and unidentifiable expression on his face while Yuri scrutinised it.

How had Viktor described it? A sense of coming home? He didn’t get that, nor any ‘intense rush’, but he did feel… _something_. A familiar feeling. Like he’d finally located something that had been misplaced for a long time.

“This whole fucking time,” Yuri breathed, ghosting his slender fingertips across the soft skin of the soulmark.

“Apparently,” Otabek agreed with a little shiver at the touch, and Yuri finally looked up to meet his eyes.

Otabek was looking back over his shoulder while Yuri knelt at his feet with one hand half up the leg of his boxers, and all of a sudden they realised the position they were in. A giggle bubbled up Yuri’s throat and in the space of a mere moment the pair of them were laughing like they had never laughed before. It was just so _ridiculous_. Eventually they regained control of themselves and Otabek held out a hand to help Yuri to his feet. Absently, Yuri thought that Otabek should probably pull his damn jeans up, but he didn’t really care whether he did or not.

“Can I kiss you, Beka?” Yuri felt suddenly shy, despite his previous position, but Otabek’s smile answered the question for him.

The kiss was slow and clumsy, neither of them exactly experienced in the matter, but it felt like the best thing in the entire world to Yuri. Otabek’s lips were soft and when he parted them to let Yuri slip his tongue inside his mouth tasted sweet and faintly of tea. Yuri wrapped his arms around Otabek’s neck and felt strong arms wrap around his slender waist. It just felt _so good_. He never wanted to stop. Of course, that was the exact moment his phone decided to start ringing. Because fuck him, that’s why.

“Urgh, it’s fucking Viktor,” Yuri grumbled after checking the caller ID. He cancelled the call and turned to go back to kissing Otabek, but his phone immediately began ringing again. It took all his self control not to hurl it across the room, but he knew that if he didn’t answer it Viktor would turn up on his doorstep next.

“Fucking what,” he spat into the receiver, and Otabek chuckled, nosing gently at the back of Yuri’s ear as if trying to distract him.

“Yuri! Where are you! I’m so sorry about Chris,” Viktor began, sounding beside himself.

“I’m at home, I’m fine, Chris is an asshole. Goodbye Viktor.”

“Wait! I’ll come over, you shouldn’t be alone after a panic attack like that,” Yuri was reminded that Viktor had helped Katsudon through many of his own panic attacks, but he rolled his eyes nonetheless.

“Beka’s here, I’m not alone,” that wasn’t going to be enough to deter Viktor, “ _please_ Viktor, I really am fine.”

“I don’t know…” Viktor started as Otabek bit down on Yuri’s earlobe just a little too hard and made him hiss at the sting. “What was that? Are you hurt? I’ll be right there!”

“NO!” Yuri shouted down the phone, thankfully managing to stop Viktor from hanging up. “Viktor…” he threw Otabek a questioning look and received a shrug and a nod in return, “Otabek’s my soulmate, and we’d really like some time to talk shit through, okay?”

Yuri had to hold the phone at arm’s length to stop himself being deafened by Viktor’s delighted squeal. That also meant he missed half of what the man went on to say, but by then he’d lost interest all over again.

“‘kay Viktor, bye,” he said absently, hanging up on him. He tugged Otabek in the direction of the couch, giving him a second to pull his jeans back up, and then tumbled down onto the well worn cushions with him.

“Where were we?”

 

Apparently finding his soulmate was good for Otabek’s skating too, and to everyone’s surprise —not least of all Yuri— he took gold at Rostelecom, Yuri’s silver only half a point behind him. Nobody could begrudge him the victory though, not when he threw the medal’s ribbon over Yuri’s neck to join his silver and kissed his cheek shyly. Yuri hadn’t bothered to put a patch back on that morning. It seemed so pointless now. He’d found his soulmate, and his soulmate was _perfect_. Looking at the mark in the faint dawn light he no longer hated it, in fact he loved it. It was beautiful, a stunning representation of the man he loved. So why should he hide it?

“Congratulations, Yuri!” A vaguely familiar voice cut through the crowd at the banquet that evening, and Yuri frowned as he tried to place it. To his surprise and no small amount of concern, Pasha came pushing through the crowd with a diminutive blonde girl Yuri vaguely recognised from the ladies singles on his arm. How could he have forgotten that the Juniors would be here tonight? They weren’t always invited to Senior events, but sometimes invitations were extended to locals. Yuri had been so wrapped up in Otabek he’d forgotten entirely that he usually spent events like this looking out for Pasha and the other Juniors so that he could avoid them.

“What do you want, Pasha?” Yuri asked. He was surprised that his voice held no bitterness, he just sounded weary, like he wasn’t ready for a fight today. He wanted to ride his high just a little bit longer. He felt Otabek squeeze his hand gently and shift so their arms were pressed together, ready to step in if he needed to. Pasha looked taken aback at the question and he took a moment to recover.

“I just wanted to congratulate you, Yuri, on finding your soulmate?” His tone was unsure now, and he seemed to be clinging a little harder to the girl.

“Great, _thanks_. No thanks to _you_ ,” ah, _there_ was the bitterness.

“What do you mean?”

Yuri shook his head in bewilderment, though he knew he shouldn’t be surprised that the other boy would have forgotten his cruel words of just a few years ago.

“I mean that you were awful to me when my soulmark showed up and it gave me a fucking complex about it,” he answered truthfully. Perhaps a little brutally, but he didn’t have the patience to sugar coat the subject. He mostly just wanted the conversation to be over.

“I did what?! Shit, Yuri, I’m so sorry.” Pasha’s cheeks coloured and he had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“Yeah, well, I found him anyway so it’s whatever I guess.” Pasha wasn’t leaving, in fact he seemed to be gearing up to say something else.

“Yuri, I didn’t realise what an asshole I’d been, I really am sorry. To tell you the truth, when we were kids I… had always kind of hoped that you were my soulmate. And when your mark showed up and meant _nothing_ to me, I… guess I overreacted.”

“You fucking think?” Yuri snorted.

“Right… Well anyway, me and Darya just wanted to say congrats, we’ll uh… get out of your hair,” he started to back away and Yuri sighed. He was actually so exhausted by this whole mess, and he just wanted to put it behind him.

“No,” he called Pasha back, “it’s fine. You can stay and hang out if you want,” Otabek turned to him in surprise but didn’t say anything. Yuri was feeling forgiving for once, he was just so happy to have found Otabek, and that _both_ of them had beaten Viktor, and his long-standing hurt just didn’t seem all that important anymore. He could be nice for one evening. He guessed.

Otabek squeezed his hand again and looked at him with such devotion that Yuri couldn’t help but smile. What more could he possibly ever want?

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I really rushed the ending, and while I was starting to run short on time, I just plain couldn't think of any other way to do it. Sorry! 
> 
> I'll try to remember to add my social media stuff here after the author reveals! ^__^


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